


A Heavy Hit

by Jamesneatojourney



Category: Chikara (Professional Wrestling), Professional Wrestling
Genre: Concussions, Rugby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamesneatojourney/pseuds/Jamesneatojourney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is learning everything he can from their senior player, but Rugby can be a dangerous game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heavy Hit

Mark focused on the scrum forming on the field, watching Dasher take his place as flanker. It was a good position for him, a flanker waits for the ball to come lose and he either runs with his teammates up the field when they get the ball, or finds the person on the other team with the ball and takes them down. In this scrum’s case it was the latter. Dasher is amazing at what he does. His tackles are precise and safely executed, not too high, not too rough. In fact, Dashers proud to say he has never injured a player during all the years he’s spent in Rugby. Its not an easy feat, this game can take you out at any given moment if you’re not careful.

Mark cannot say he gone without the accidental injury of another player. Football is a different game, and the tackles even more so. You can’t dive head first into someone on a rugby pitch and expect everyone involved to walk away clean like Mark has for so many years in football. Mark is still working on his technique as well as his temper on the field. Both are key in keeping a game clean, so mark is understandably at the sidelines running water today. He was upset at first when he learned he wasn’t going to play, but he understands. Besides, he has been needing to watch Dasher play flank so he can see what he needs to fix, there’s no one better to learn from. 

Dasher has the power of a flank, the dexterity and speed of a wing, and the authority and control of scrum half. Any position needing to be filled Dasher can handle with poise and skill. Rugby Is a game Dasher was born to play. Its a game of respect, you play to win, not to maim. You help people up and you respect those around you on the field. However when Mark is on the field, his brain goes to the field antics of football and he starts running his mouth. Its a process, but he’s getting better at holding back.

The Sir calls for the bind in the scrum and Mark holds his breath, watching both teams collide and push against each other. Mark squints to try to find where the ball is but its no use. The mud has made any hope of visibility impossible. He watches as the scrum shifts and moves and Mark sees dasher poised and ready to run.

A resounding echo of “Balls out!” causes the scrum to untangle, and immediately Dasher is off and running. The opposing team gets maybe five steps in with the ball before Dasher catches up to him, quickly wrapping his arms around his waist and taking him down, perfectly as always. In the moment it takes for Dasher to take him down he is back up, grabbing the ball and bolting down the field.

Mark yells amongst the cheers of the team as Dasher hauls down the long expanse of muddy grass. Mark, along with the rest of the team, begin to run down the side of the field to be alongside one of their senior players. Dasher is ahead of the line, but the defensive back of the opposing team has some set of wheels on them as they quickly are able to close the gap between themselves and Dasher.

“C’mon Dash, you got this!” Mark yells as Dash hits the last few yards before the try zone. Just as the defender is able to grab hold of his waist, Dasher throws himself to the ground, ball outstretched forward, into the try zone. The Sir blows a whistle signalling points scored and the whole sideline explodes into cheers. Mark is grinning and cheering before remembering his role and grabbing the water and running out to where the team was huddled with the coach. They only get a moments rest before the sir will call them back out to set up again, so Mark has to be quick. 

While handing out the bottles, he lingers by Dash, who was still catching his breath, Dasher smirks at him and ruffles Mark’s hair before quickly handing back the water. Dasher gives Mark a firm, albeit muddy, pat on the arm, and runs back out to take the kick for a field goal.

“Keep it up Dash!” Mark calls to him, and he gets a thumbs up from a muddy, taped up hand in response. Mark grins and jogs back to his spot on the sidelines, eagerly waiting the kick off to restart play.

The game continued, neither team scoring a try for a considerable part of the first half. The second half had been going on for around ten minutes when it happened. There was a scrum on the field, Dasher’s teammate got the ball. Dasher ran along side in the forward line as support and got the pass, but didn’t notice the opposing teams defense cutting across from the opposite side of the field. Dasher turned his head and saw them not even a second before two large defenders T-bone him with one of the hardest tackles Mark has seen in his short time playing.

Dasher hit the ground hard and Mark winced at the sight. There may be mud cushioning the fall but that still looked like Dash took a nasty hit, and from where Mark was standing, Dasher’s head looked to have flopped awkwardly against the muddy field. Dasher started to stretch his arm out to place the ball towards his team when the hastily formed ruck collapsed directly on him. Rucks can be unstable, that's to be expected. But these were some large players they were up against. Most of whom weren’t trying particularly hard to play it safe. Mark could have sworn earlier in the game he saw one of the opposing team's flankers grab their fastest wing by his shoulder length blonde hair, instead of attempting a solid tackle.

Mark shook his head and noticed that the collapsed ruck seemed to have stopped the match.

“Thats going to leave some bruises on everyone later” Mark said with a chuckle, turning to a few teammates standing near him. They did not respond, or even look at him. Their faces were filled with worry and they stared intently at the collapsed ruck.

Mark started feeling a twinge of panic knot into his stomach. These guys have been playing for years, what was Mark not seeing?

“Was that really such a bad hit? I’ve seen hits far worse than that back in–” then it clicked. 

For football that may not have been too bad. But they have pads, helmets, equipment with the sole purpose of protecting themselves from these very same hits. Dasher had his mouthguard, and some tape to secure his wrists. Other than that he was at the mercy of the game, which didn’t seem too kind at this moment.

Mark fiddled with the labels on the plastic water bottles in his hands and shifted nervously on the balls of his feet as he watched the field. The pile started to untangle itself, and Mark watched intently for Dasher. He couldn’t see through the clump of players, but someone on their wasn’t getting up. The sir blew the whistle and both teams took a knee, indicating that someone was down. Mark ran to the field with the water while both teams captains checked on whoever it was that had gotten hurt. As he got out to the field, and proceeded to hand out the waters, Mark glanced among all the players taking a knee and noticed one player missing. Eyes widening, he spun around to see the coaches, and now the trainer, both surrounding Dasher, who had yet to get up from where the ruck had collapsed.

“Oh shit”

Mark took a couple steps closer, but still kept his distance from the coaches and the sir. He tried to peek between the coach and the sir to get a better look at Dasher, but he was still not moving. Their head coach crouched down and appeared to be trying to talk to him, Mark couldn’t hear a word. The sir glanced around and saw Mark was standing and had his hands free. He waved him over and Mark hesitantly stepped to stand beside the sir.

“When they get him up, help them walk him to the sideline ok?”

Mark nodded his head fervently, not once looking away from Dasher, who he could now see up close and unobstructed. He was on his back, having been rolled over by the trainer. It looked like he was awake, but it was hard to be certain. Gently, the trainer sat him up while carefully watching Dashers face for any additional discomfort. Dasher blinked a couple times before shaking his head, presumably an attempt to shake off whatever injury he may have sustained. The trainer crouched down and hooked an arm beneath Dashers armpit before looking to Mark. Mark snapped out of his daze and quickly moved to Dashers other side, helping get Dasher to a standing position. Mark held on to Dasher tightly as they began to slowly move off the field. As they began walking Dasher off, Mark couldn’t help but notice Dasher's muddy cleats struggling to make basic steps. His feet seemed to drag heavily through the mud and it took all of the Trainer and Mark’s strength to keep the stocky man upright.

Dasher didn’t say a word from the field to the sideline, which made the feeling of dread in his stomach much worse. His head lolled back and forth as they walked, at one point nearly headbutting Marks temple. When they finally reached the sideline the trainer steered them towards a fold out chair he had been sitting in during the game. They gently sat Dasher down in it and leaned him back so he couldn’t slump forward.

Mark held tightly onto Dasher’s mouthguard, stuffing it in his pocket before crouching beside the chair as the trainer rifled through his bag.

“Dash, you alright? You got hit pretty hard” He rested his hand on Dashers jaw, lightly turning his head to see the bruise forming on his temple. Mark turned Dashers head forward and looked into his eyes, awaiting an answer. His eyes were unfocused and cloudy, and Dasher squinted at him before lifting a shaky hand and heavily setting it down on top of Mark’s head, weakly ruffling his hair.

“I’m just fine son, just gotta finish this game up” Dasher braced his arms on the armrests of the flimsy chair and tried to pull himself up to stand. Mark quickly reached out and pressed down on Dasher’s shoulders in an awkward attempt at pushing him back into his seat. Mark still wasn’t sure the extent of Dasher’s injuries and didn’t know how to go about gently keeping the man still.

“Dash, you gotta stay here. You can’t go back out to the field, you just got trucked and the trainer needs to look at you.”

Dasher furrowed his brows and sunk back in the chair. Mark sighed in relief, he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to deal with Dasher trying to be a hero for the team in this state. Mark would probably just end up hurting him worse trying to keep him still. The trainer looked over Dasher quickly, asking him questions Dasher didn’t understand and shining lights into his eyes. The trainer left to discuss his condition with the coach when Dasher looked down at the first aid kit, confused, and then back up to Mark, Seemingly being hit with the realization that he wasn’t actually out on the field still

“Did I get walked off the field?”

Mark ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Well that wasn’t a good sign.

“Yes Dash, I just helped the trainer walk you from the field. Do you even remember how you got hurt?”

Dasher chuckled quietly and gently touched the growing bruise on his temple that was now connecting with his yellowish green black eye.

“It was certainly sloppy technique” Dasher said with a confident smirk.

“That answer was vague, Hatfield.” Mark said, trying hard not to laugh.

“But i’m not wrong, am I?”

Dasher lifted a muddy tape-covered hand and pointed at him playfully. Dasher looked tired, definitely like he was hurting, but he was ok. Mark smiled and grabbed hold of his hand, ignoring the mud and placing a quick kiss to the back of it.

“I guess I wont be the only waterboy for a while, huh?”

The realization that he wouldn’t be playing for some time hit and Dasher groaned, leaning back in the trainers fold out chair. He took a breath, but still gave Mark a smile. He sighed and gave Marks hand a tight squeeze,

“Guess not”


End file.
